Freedom Unhinged
by Amelia Valencia
Summary: This story is so new that I don't have a full plot yet! I'm writing by ear for the moment, but I know it will be a good one! It revolves around three Seminus demon brothers: Sebastian, Travis, and Trayvon. The trio are very different from one another, but they share some very important moral values. Rating dropped to T since I realized M actually wasn't necessary. :D
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello~ everyone! I'm ba-ack! :D

Did you guys miss me? Because I really missed writing. Things got really crazy for a while, consisting of everything from writer's block to college to vacations to getting my first novel published to finally getting a job! If anyone out there would like to know the title of my novel in order to check it out, feel free to PM me! It's been an incredible couple of years, and I apologize profusely for leaving all of my readers to wonder what has become of me. I intend to try to get back to my previously active FF writing, but as always, one cannot predict reality and its various devices.

Anywho. I'm not going to close or delete Tragic Paradise or Purrfection because I do want to keep writing them, but it's been so long now that I've forgotten most of exactly what I intended for them. I'll have to re-read my own work and try to get a new grip on them again. For now, I'm going to begin this brand new story in a brand new book category that I personally requested that add into their list. I read this series for the first time last year, and I'm in the process of reading them all again.

It's a very different sort of fantasy than either of my other fanfictions, so I hope those of you who have read and followed those stories will give this one a chance as well!

Also, stay tuned at the end of the chapter for a set of hilarious outtakes! It's an idea I got from fellow FF writer, Asante. Thought it was awesome and made room for plenty of laughs, so I've decided to incorporate them in my own writing! I intend to supply outtakes at the end of every chapter, but I hope you'll all forgive me if there are any chapters where I just can't come up with any good ones.

And now, my dear readers, may I present to you: Freedom Unhinged!

Chapter 1

"Well this sucks," Sebastian muttered under his breath, halfheartedly kicking the front tire of his motorcycle, which had completely broken down just when he was about fifty miles from his next destination.

The machine was a gorgeous hot rod of a thing: shiny black with a blazing flame design done in kaleidoscopic paint. Whatever way light—partciularly sunlight—hit the flames, they shimmered a different set of colors. They were green, blue, and violet at the moment, but Bast knew if he moved to a different spot, the colors would be replaced with new ones. Leaning his elbow against the handlebar, he crossed one leg over the other and looked around at his surroundings.

It was a pretty open area, the road he'd been traveling on made up of two lanes with gravel strips along each side and scattered trees beyond. He was, as humans liked to say, "in the middle of nowhere." Well, okay, so maybe it wasn't actually _nowhere._ He was just fifty miles away from somewhere.

"Why'd ya do this to me?" he asked, looking down at the apathetic bike. The thing had never given him a single problem, not in the five years he'd had it. He took excellent care of it, so what could possibly be the problem? It would be easy enough to get to the nearest town, but the motorcycle was his baby, and he didn't want to just leave it on the side of the road for any random passer-by to pick up. Not that the bike would go anywhere, but if someone with a truck showed up, it would only take a little hard work to get the bike into the bed and drive away.

And _why_ was he so worried? He got a new motorcycle every five years or so anyway. This baby's time was nearly over either way he looked at it. But this one had been his favorite so far, with its glossy black sheen and the glorious flames that changed all the time just like him. Bast suffered from what some people might call ADD to the max. He never stuck with anything for very long. Motorcycles ran in a five to six year cycle, making them one of his longer-ranging attachments. So far, the only thing he hadn't changed in decades was his clothing style of choice. T-shirts, jeans, biker boots, and a leather jacket. He was a biker in every sense of the word.

But everything else? Never the same. He never stayed in one place for longer than two weeks. Good thing the world was a big place...but then again, he was two hundred twenty-two years old. He'd been pretty much everywhere.

Everywhere on Earth, anyway. Sheoul was a completely different story.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, he pushed off the bike and wandered a few steps away from it, extending his senses to scout out the nearest Harrowgate. Harrowgates were mystical travel portals invisible to all humans. Other species however, like angels, demons, shifters, and were-creatures could see and sense them. Similarly, humans couldn't be taken through Harrowgates unless they were unconscious, otherwise they would die. Bast suspected it was probably due to the sheer demonic force that dwelled in them. Aha, there was one. Only a half mile from where he stood. Shooting a wary look over his shoulder at his bike, he began to wander east toward the gate. He _really_ didn't like this. But with the use of the Harrowgate, it would only take seconds to travel fifty miles, and then he just had to find a garage with a tow truck. Easy enough, he supposed, since he'd been to Chicago plenty of times before.

Normally he didn't repeat visits much, but Chicago was different. It was enormous and filled with oh so many things to do. Not to mention all the fun Mafia people. Arriving at the Harrowgate, he stepped beyond the shimmering curtain of energy and into the dark chamber within. As a demon, he was not only able to see and make use of Harrowgates, but he could also decipher the dozens of location symbols carved into their walls in crimson. It was Sheoulic, the universal demon language. Most inhuman creatures at least knew Sheoulic, but there were a few that didn't. Namely, heavenly angels as well as all heavenly counterparts to otherwise hellish creatures. These creatures were usually referred to the same way as their darker counterparts, but with the title of "light" added in front. One such creature was among the Mafia men that Bast liked to toy with on occasion.

Locating the correct symbol on the wall map of Chicago, he tapped it with a finger, and the gate opened into a small alley behind a Thai restaurant. Rolling his shoulders, Bast stepped out of the gate and began to walk up the street, heading roughly northwest where he knew he could find what he was looking for. As much as he told himself it was almost time for a new ride, he just couldn't shake it. He loved the cycle he had. It had been completely reliable up until now, and had scored him countless magnificent bedmates.

As a Seminus demon—a rare breed of incubus—Bast needed sex not only to remain healthy, but to survive. He needed it at least two to three times a day, which of course tended to slow his traveling time substantially. Even without the motorcycle, he'd never had any trouble scoring females thanks to the irresistible charm of his race. But hell, the bike really didn't hurt either. Females aside, the bike just fit his personality with its ever-changing flames and sleek build. Rev it the right way and it purred like a tiger.

Yep, Sebastian all over.

No way he was getting a new bike yet. Picking up his pace, he broke into a jog, still anxious about leaving it unguarded. He burst into the auto shop and—oh great. It was a man behind the desk. While he could probably work some crazy Sem magic and sweet talk his way to faster service, he _really_ was not keen on trying to charm a male. Particularly since Sems couldn't find any sort of physical arousal or satisfaction from other males. It had to be females...and the person waiting to help him just _had_ to be a guy. A guy who actually had a goatee, of all things.

Fabulous.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man asked, and Bast put on an air of weariness.

"Yeah, my motorcycle broke down a good ways from here," he explained, even going so far as to put a tired rasp into his voice. "Dunno what caused it, so I dunno how to fix it. I need a tow truck."

"Sure. Where's it broken down?"

"About fifty miles from here." The man paused, staring at Bast dubiously. "I told you it was a ways out."

"You walked fifty miles to get here?"

"No. I walked the last three miles," Bast explained, and it was the truth. "I hitchhiked the rest of it." Also true, though he hadn't hitched a ride with another person.

The man was convinced, and he nodded. "Ahh. Okay then. Have a seat over there and Jolie will be out in a minute."

"Thanks," Bast said gratefully, stepping away from the counter and claiming a chair in the small waiting area that was exactly ten steps away. It was a small place, but apparently the garage and repair area behind the main building was large enough to accommodate quite a few vehicles at once.

True to the claim, the woman called Jolie appeared from the back door only a minute or two after Bast sat down. He saw her come in and watched as she conferred with Goatee Guy, taking the opportunity to check her out. She was a tall woman, but well built. Clearly it was due to the work she did on vehicles. She was sturdy but curvy, her hair a wavy curtain of auburn that just reached her tailbone. Nice. She turned to face him as Goatee pointed him out.

"Hi," Bast greeted, flashing her a grin as he approached and offered out his hand for a shake. Instinctively, he tapped into his extra ability inherited from his mother to gauge her mood.

All Seminus demons, though they were all pure-blooded males regardless of the mother species, inherited certain traits from the maternal side of their parentage. In Sebastian's case, his mother had been a Pathos demon. Pathos demons, as the name suggested, specialized in reading, recognizing, and manipulating the emotions of other beings. At their best, they could work all sorts of miracles with things like depression, suicidal thoughts, drug or alcohol addiction, and damaging anger. At their worst, they could cause an emotion to have a certain adhesiveness, making it stick to the victim for months at a time, slowly eating away at the person's physical and spiritual health while all of the lost energy went straight to the demon responsible. It was how Pathos demons fed: by torturing other creatures and humans. Even other demons had a hard time working against Pathos demon magics.

"Hi," Jolie replied, taking his hand firmly and giving him a slight grin. "I'm Jolie."

"Sebastian," he introduced in return. "Friends call me Bast." Her grip was firm and solid, impressive for a human female. Her eyes were bright green, and Bast was immediately dazzled. The sweet tang of cheeriness filled Bast's senses as he examined her, and her aura sparkled with a magenta hue. She was happy, secure not only in her job, but in her life.

"Nice to meet you. Wanna go get your bike?" she asked, flashing snowy white teeth in a bigger grin.

"You're a goddess," he said, grinning back with relief. "It broke down outside city limits and it's been driving me crazy, thinking about it just sitting on the side of the road where anybody might come along and steal it."

"Well, don't worry. I'll get you to your bike, and we'll get her all fixed up."

"Thank you." He followed her out to the tow truck, climbing into the passenger seat once the vehicle was unlocked. They talked about various things along the way, mostly questions about the bike itself, how old it was, what condition it was in, etc. Every last drop of tension drained out of him when they arrived and his cycle was still exactly where he'd left it. It wasn't a popularly traveled road, so there had probably been a total of two vehicles that passed it during the last hour.

"Phew," he sighed as Jolie pulled the truck onto the shoulder. "I was convinced that it wouldn't be here by the time I got back."

Jolie just smiled knowingly at him and climbed out to load it up. Bast watched her in the rearview mirror, sinking back into the seat. Everything was going to be okay. He'd get his bike fixed, and he'd be back on his way by dusk. Friggin great way to start his visit to Chicago. What could it mean for the rest of his trip?

A/N: Tada! I know nothing really happened in this first chapter, but I don't really even know yet exactly where I'm going with the story. I know the main characters, but I don't have a sequence of events or villain or anything yet. I'm writing this off the top of my head, so if anyone out there has any suggestions—whether you're familiar with the series or not—I will welcome them with open arms!

Even with its lack of events, I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter. Bast is a really funny character, and I think you'll enjoy the other two main characters as well. I'm going to try to update ASAP; maybe I'll be able to think up a chapter and get it posted sometime next week if I get some reviews. ;)

And now, for your endless entertainment, I give you...outtakes!

Outtake 1:

"Well this sucks," Sebastian muttered under his breath, halfheartedly kicking the front tire of his motorcycle, which had completely broken down just when he was about fifty miles from his next destination.

Instantly, the bike flipped backwards with an unusual anti-gravity effect and slid weightlessly into the ditch at the side of the road. Bast just stared in utter bewilderment, eyes wide.

"Cut!" shouted the director, eyeing the strange sight and looking exasperated. Amelia was just trying not to laugh along with Tray.

"Someone wanna tell me what's up with my bike?" Bast asked, turning to aim a suspicious glare at his youngest brother, Trayvon.

Tray blinked, feigning innocence. "What? I didn't do anything."

Travis, the middle brother, snorted. "You replaced his motorcycle with a blow-up replica."

Tray shot his brother a look. "Hey! Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Where is my bike, Tray?" Bast demanded, taking a threatening step toward him.

"It's exactly where you left it. I brought in the balloon and told the prop guys not to worry about bringing the real one in."

Bast grumbled irritably as he stormed out the door to get his bike.

Outtake 2:

Arriving at the Harrowgate, he went to step into it only to crash headlong into a solid pane of elegant, rippled glass.

"Damn it Trayvon!" Bast snarled, whirling to face his cackling brother.

Outtake 3:

Locating the correct symbol on the wall map of Chicago, he tapped it with a finger, and the gate opened into a small alley behind a Thai restaurant, where a huge green sluglike monster stood waiting to be discovered.

"Surprise!" Roz proclaimed, following up with her signature raspy chuckle. Bast yelped and lept back, stumbling over a sound cable in the process.

"Cut!" the director called.

This time, Amelia wasn't fighting at all, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. "It's been years since that movie came out. I love Monsters, Inc.!"

"The heck is she doing here?" Bast asked as he untangled the cable from his legs, now laughing a little too.

"I think she's one of the extras. Good for a few Sheoul scenes, you know," Travis provided.

"Did I get the part?" Roz asked.

"Tell you what," the director said with a sigh. "Promise not to show up in the wrong scenes anymore and you can be a Sheoul extra."

"Thank you!" Roz said happily, slithering off the set and out of the studio.

"Is this gonna be a thing?" the director asked the author, who just grinned.

"Probably. I'm a real stickler for pop culture references."

"Moving on," the director said.

Outtake 4:

No way he was getting a new bike yet. Picking up his pace, he broke into a jog, still anxious about leaving it unguarded. He burst into the auto shop and his feet flew out from under him. He cried out in surprise, arms flailing helplessly as he fell, a grunt whooshing out of him as his back hit the floor.

"Cut," the director said tiredly, shaking his head. He turned to confront Tray, but blinked when he was found to be absent. "Where is he?"

"Bathroom break," Amelia replied as she went to help Bast to his feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bast mumbled. "Friggin clean-up crew."

"Sorry," the janitor apologized, looking sheepish.

Outtake 5:

He saw her come in and watched as she conferred with Goatee Guy, taking the opportunity to check her out. She was a tall woman, but well built. Clearly it was due to the work she did on vehicles. She was sturdy but curvy, her hair a wavy curtain of auburn that just reached her tailbone. Nice. She turned to face him as Goatee pointed him out.

"I wouldn't be licking that floor if I were you, Casanova," she said with a sly grin.

Bast just blinked at her. "Huh?"

"Wait, is that not my line?" Jolie asked, blushing slightly as she turned to glance at the film crew.

"Now someone's messing with the script?" the director grumbled, glaring daggers at Tray and Amelia, who were both laughing.

"Was that really necessary?" Travis asked.

"No, but it sure was funny," Amelia said between giggles. Either she was in cahoots with Tray, or she just found his antics too entertaining to put a stop to them.

"I think we're done for today," said the director, rising from his chair and gesturing for the crew to turn off the equipment.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay! So...no reviews. Sad face! But I understand; it's probably because I've been inactive for a really long time and folks probably think I've abandoned everything. I'll just have to wait for someone to discover this new story and check it out, and then to pass the word on to some other readers. Lol

Anyway! This chapter introduces the other two brothers: Travis and Trayvon. It's another uneventful chapter, but I promise that the next chapter will have some wicked fun, so be sure to keep reading! Some of the greatest stories start out slow, after all! Think Stephen King, if you don't believe me. ;)

Chapter 2

He had never felt so incredible before. Never so enraptured, so lost in a single woman's eyes...so close to Heaven itself. She was his—all his—for eternity.

The bonding ritual had begun, the sweet tang of her blood on his tongue filling him with an ecstasy that could never be replicated. The fingers of his right hand tangled with the fingers of her left, heat surging along his dermoire from the personal symbol that marked his throat all the way to its end at his fingertips. But it didn't stop there; no, he knew that even as it hit his fingertips, the heat was leaping into her flesh, and very soon, she would forever be marked as his female; his mate; his wife.

But then, the Devil himself interfered.

Her eyes opened, burning with fiery blue passion as they turned to the side, likely feeling the heat from his dermoire saturating into her skin. Her eyes widened, and the passion at once turned to horror.

Even as the tribal markings that made up his dermoire were flickering into position on her arm, settling into her flesh, she cried out in alarm and snatched the small knife from his hand. The one he had used to cut into his own skin and offer his blood—nay, his being—to her.

"Julie—" he tried to say, but her repeated cry of alarm cut him off.

"No," she whimpered, unadulterated terror glaring up at him from within her sky blue eyes. "No no no no no!" she wailed.

Then, in a move so swift that even he couldn't keep up with it, she raised the knife and brought it down upon her own chest. She did it again. Once. Twice. Thrice before he escaped the iron grip of shock and grasped her wrists to stop her, but of course it was too late.

"Julianne!" he cried, eyes wide in agony, his chest, arms, and shoulders covered in her blood. He jolted, seering pain ripping into him as, through the barely created bond, he felt her begin to fade. The shock forced his grip on her hands to loosen, and she took advantage of the opening to bring the blade down upon herself a fifth time.

Just like the joy that had filled him only moments before, the anguish that now took hold was beyond any he had ever felt. She was dying, and a sliver of his soul was being violently ripped from the rest of him. But strangely, none of that hurt nearly as much as the way her eyes stared up at him, shining with a wrenching mixture of triumph, betrayal, fear, and hatred.

"Julie," he choked out, lifting her into his arms as she finally let the blade slip from her fingers. "Why...?"

She gave no answer, her body trembling with weakness and shock as she slipped away, exhaling her final breath while she bled and he wept.

"NO!"

Trayvon shrieked out of the dream, his body jerking upright as he cried out in despair. It was still dark, likely the middle of the night or very early morning. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding so hard that he felt it in his entire body, which was drenched in sweat. Trembling, he kicked the covers away and turned to plant his feet on the floor and his head into his hands. A sob bubbled up from the very center of his being, and the tears that had already been falling in his sleep redoubled their current now that he was awake.

Eighty-three years had done nothing to lessen the pain of his first wife's death, but at least he had gone for a while without reliving it through the nightmare. In fact, he hadn't had the nightmare in nearly twelve years, and its unexpected return left him shaken to his core. He let himself go for a time, releasing every single tear and chest-clenching sob that welled within him.

What was he going to do?

Eventually, the worst of the spell seemed to pass, and he rose from the bed to cross to the large window that dominated the far wall. He spread the curtains, opened the window, and leaned his head and shoulders out into the early morning mist, elbows propped on the outer sill. The cool air felt good against his clammy flesh, and the neighborhood was still mostly quiet, though he could see several lights on inside other houses as their residents prepared for the day ahead. The sky was a pale blue, that serene shade it had just before the sun began to color the eastern horizon with brighter colors like yellow, pink, purple, and orange.

He guessed it was around five thirty, based on the amount of light in the sky and the fact that some other people were already up and about. Across the street, the neighbor's schnauzer trotted about the yard while tethered to a tree. It paused and looked across at him, its wiry tail giving a few slow wags of greeting.

"Morning Schnitzel," Tray said halfheartedly, and the dog's tail wagged more insistently. Animals loved Tray, though he wasn't quite sure why. Being a demon, it seemed that animals would despise and fear him. But then, they loved his brother Travis too. Maybe animals had a sense for good demons just like they did for good people? If that was the case, were they even more enthusiastic about friendly demons because, somewhere deep down in their hidden intelligences, they knew that a good demon was an even rarer find than a good human? Shaking off the strange thoughts, Tray retreated back into his room and closed the window. Leaving the curtains open, he crossed the hall to the bathroom to begin his morning routine. He definitely needed a shower.

An hour or two later, he felt a little better, though the dark cloud of depression still hung over him. He hadn't missed the nightmare—no, not at all. It always left him feeling utterly demolished for the entire day, and sometimes for multiple days straight. Which made it difficult to get the one particular thing that demons of his species needed to survive: females.

Not that he lost any charm, but he didn't feel as compelled to do what needed to be done, and he knew that his bedmates didn't get quite as much satisfaction as they might normally get from him. Because every single female that gave in to him during a time like this reminded him of Julianne. Every woman, even the ones who looked and behaved nothing like his late wife, had something that perfectly resembled her in some way. There were the obvious things: red hair, blue eyes, Scottish accent, delicate features. Then there were the completely obscure features that only he would ever see: the playful smirk that came with one just slightly raised brow, the wrinkled nose in response to something distasteful, the gentle roll of a woman's shoulders as she walked briskly down the sidewalk. On days like this, she was everywhere.

Everywhere...and yet hopelessly far from where she belonged.

After finishing an omelet and a cup of coffee, he went about his set task of tidying up the house. Travis would be landing in Chicago at eleven o'clock and would be coming to the house once he left the airport. His brother was a military man, having served in the Marine Core for decades. Only very careful handling of his life and identity had kept humans from getting suspicious about his unusual longevity. Travis had enlisted in Scotland in 1934 shortly after their twenty-third birthday, and had remained ever since. Now he served in the United States Marine Core, and he was coming home after a three-year tour of duty in Africa. He would stay in the house with Tray for a couple of months, and then it was off to the nearest base to train new recruits.

The two were twins, Travis being older by around twenty minutes. They'd never known either of their parents though; their mother had died while giving birth, and their father, like most Seminus demons, wanted nothing to do with his offspring. On top of that, Tray and Travis were two living taboos. Their mother was human, which meant that they were Cambions. Half demon and half human, Cambions were considered the mutts of the underworld. They often had genetic defects that caused all kinds of problems. For that reason, it was against demon law for a demon to impregnate a human female.

But, obviously, it still happened. While Travis and Tray didn't have any physical defects or deficiencies to give them trouble, they did have one major spiritual problem: their human and demon halves were completely separated rather than blended. In layman's terms, they suffered from a very distinct multiple personality disorder. Jekyll and Hyde brought to life. The demon halves even had their own separate names—but then, what demon didn't have a true name that it protected at all costs? To learn a demon's true name was to gain absolute power over it.

Travis had managed to do just that a few years after his enlistment. He was twenty-seven, and he had turned against his dark side, demanding that the demon give him its name in the name of Jesus Christ. It not only hurt the demon, but Travis as well. However, after several years as a marine, Travis had developed a surprisingly high threshold of a variety of pains, and though he nearly destroyed himself, he persisted until the demon half surrendered. Because he was still young at the time, he was able to force the demon half down so that he could have control, and his military skills only empowered his grip on the demon side.

Nowadays, Travis had full control of himself and his Hyde Side, as Tray liked to call it, but the downside was that he couldn't let any emotion get too far out. If he became too emotional or allowed too much of it to show, it made space for the demon to rise up and take control—not that it did very often. Compared to Tray's own demon, his brother's was amazingly tame, likely due to Travis only releasing it when it absolutely needed to be fed. In addition to their incubus needs, the Hyde Sides needed to be able to torment humans in order to soak up the darkness it brought. Travis did that as little as possible, and only to those who deserved it.

Tray was a little less careful. He had refused Travis's advice to enlist as well, believing that he could control his demon half himself. He was certain he didn't need the military to help him manage his own problems. He'd been wrong, of course, and now it was far too late to change anything. His demon side was too strong, and it slipped out without his permission on occasion. On top of that, he still didn't know the name of his own Hyde Side. He didn't dare try, lest his demon be powerful enough to destroy them both rather than give up his name.

The sound of Travis's truck pulling into the driveway cut into Tray's musings on the past and present as he slid the last few French fries onto a plate next to a burger. _Perfect timing as always,_ he thought with a faint smile. He turned off the stove, took the plates to the table, then met his brother in the front room of the house. He hadn't knocked, knowing it wasn't necessary.

"Hey Travis," he greeted, trying to make the smile more genuine though he knew there wasn't much point in it.

Travis came close and wrapped him in a firm hug. "Was it the nightmare again?" he asked gently, drawing back after a few seconds to eye his brother's face.

Tray grimaced and looked away, unable to meet Travis's concerned gaze. "Yeah," he muttered quietly.

"You've got to stop blaming yourself, Tray. You're tearing yourself apart."

"You think I don't try?" Tray asked, facing his brother once again. "I thought it had finally ended, Travis. It's been over a decade since I last had that dream. I thought it was over."

"Do you think something triggered it?" Tray shrugged. "What did you do yesterday? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Tray frowned as he thought, stalling by leading Travis to the table where lunch was waiting. The two sat down, Travis giving him a grateful smile as he started to eat. "I don't know. It felt like a pretty normal day to me," he finally said. "I watched a program about castles, but—" Oh God.

"Castles?" Travis asked, eyeing Tray as a few shades of color drained from his little brother's face.

Slowly, Tray nodded, lowering his gaze to the stack of fries on his plate. "Yeah...that must have done it." When it came to his wedding, Tray had spared no expense. He had rented a glorious castle in their shared hometown of Eddenborough for both their wedding and their honeymoon.

"You have to face this eventually, Trayvon. You have to realize and accept that it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," Tray replied, a little sharper than he meant to, and looked back up at his brother. "Julie didn't know what I was. I could have done so many things to prevent that. I could've told her what I was. I could've explained everything to her. She might still have been afraid, but I think she would've come to terms with it if I'd only told her. I could've resisted my stupid primal urges and not tried to bond with her. It could've just been normal marriage consummation, but no. I had to be too weak to control myself. I had to go and start the bonding ritual so she could see the marks appearing on her arm. I had to go and frighten her so badly that she was willing to risk going to Hell in order to get away from me!"

Travis remained silent, watching his brother passively. He had to let him get it all out, and Travis knew it. Upon realizing that Tray was something inhuman, Julie had risked her soul in order to slay her own body. In that day, so long ago in 1932, Julie had been among the groups who believed that suicide was an automatic ticket into Hell rather than Heaven, and her willingness to reach to that extreme had never ceased to hurt his brother. And, if he was being honest with himself, it hurt him too. He'd liked Julianne and had gotten along with her swimmingly. The truth was that they both missed her.

When Tray fell silent, Travis paused for a few seconds before speaking up. "Tray, listen to me. I know that you could have told her earlier—I won't deny you that point—but we both know you would never have been able to fight instinct. You would've tried to bond with her eventually, whether or not it was on your wedding night. That's too much a part of what we are, and if I ever fall in love, I'm certain that I'll want to do the same thing. It's completely natural." Tray looked down again, munching a fry while he listened. "I don't think it would have turned out any differently. You need to find a way to make peace with this."

They ate in silence for a long time, Tray pondering his brother's words and Travis providing the silence for him to do so. Tray didn't speak again until they had both finished eating and the dishes were cleaned and put away.

"So...how was Africa?"

Travis smiled, taking the hint that his brother didn't want to think about Julie anymore. Not right now, at any rate. "Pretty quiet, honestly. We were stationed outside a small village in order to protect it from enemy villages while a truce is being negotiated between the two. So there really wasn't a lot to be done besides make sure nothing got out of hand. The most action I saw was killing a rogue lion that appeared on the scene last month."

"Seriously? One lion?"

Travis chuckled. "Well, apparently it had come through several times before, but nobody could identify it in order for someone to catch it. Over the last six months, it had already killed one pregnant woman, one baby, and two teenagers."

"Geez," Tray muttered, and Travis nodded. "So you got it?"

"It turned out to be a lion shifter." Tray's eyes widened in surprise, and Travis nodded. "Yeah. He was living in the village the whole time. That's why nobody could catch him."

"Nobody questioned the missing man?"

"They just assumed that he was the lion's last victim before I managed to kill it."

Tray shook his head in dismay. "Wow."

The next few hours were relatively uneventful. The two twins caught up on what was new, Travis recounting tales from West Africa while Tray told about the jobs he had found and lost due to various reasons. When it began to get dark, Travis decided to call it an early evening. He was exhausted from travel and the extended period of keeping his soldier mentality alert. When the elder Sem retired, Tray quietly left the house and headed into town. Specifically, the Red Light District.

He couldn't tell Travis that his battle against his dark side had gotten worse since the other's departure to Africa. He couldn't tell him that every single night, from seven o'clock to five o'clock, he lost himself almost completely. His demon side took over in a marvelous impersonation of Edward Hyde, and Tray was left helpless, locked away in his own mind, unable to control anything but perfectly able to see, hear, and understand everything that his demon side did. It was a nightly torture from which he couldn't escape.

And it was about to begin again.

A/N: Outtake time! I'm sorry there aren't as many outtakes in this chapter, but it was a kind of serious chapter, so I had a little difficulty coming up with bloopers for it. That and Sebastian is seriously contemplating his methods of getting back at Tray for chapter 1, so hang in there for some good ones yet to come!

Outtake 1:

Even as the tribal markings that made up his dermoire were flickering into position on her arm, settling into her flesh, she cried out in alarm and snatched the small knife from his hand. The one he had used to cut into his own skin and offer his blood—nay, his being—to her.

"Julie—" he tried to say, but an odd expression had come over her face. Tray's look of horror turned to one of confusion as he stared at her. "Julie?"

"Trayvon," she said ethereally, an intense yet distant look in her eyes. "You must go to the Dagobah System."

"What?" Tray asked even as the director groaned and slapped his forehead.

"Julianne, for the last time, this is a dream scene from 1932. Star Wars didn't even exist yet back then!"

By now, Tray had begun to laugh, Bast was already laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, and Julie was grinning from ear to ear.

"I can't help it!" she said through giggles. "That was just such an intriguing series, and I thought it deserved a little recognition. You know, like the Lake Wissota reference that Rose makes in Titanic about the men being 'masters of the universe.'"

"Lake Wissota didn't exist in 1912 either!" the director said exasperatedly. "We have to keep this realistic or nobody's going to believe it really happened."

"But it didn't really happen," Jolie said, and all eyes turned to her. "I mean, she's alive. She's right there, isn't she?"

Silence.

"What, so you buried her in the Micmac burying ground and she came back normal?" Jolie said doubtfully.

Tray snickered. "Hey, don't jump to such conclusions, Jolie. I know the Wendigo personally. He's not so bad as Mr. King made him out to be. Seriously. Everything he did had a reason."

The director, now very thoroughly freaked out, just lifted his megaphone and, voice slightly shaky, called, "Let's just...get set up for take two."

Outtake 2:

Tray frowned as he thought, stalling by leading Travis to the table where lunch was waiting. The two sat down, Travis giving him a grateful smile as he started to eat. But he had hardly lifted a piece of food to his lips before he jumped in surprise and stared down at his plate. "What the...green eggs and ham?"

Tray grinned broadly at his brother's bewildered look. "You will enjoy my eggs and ham, you will enjoy them with some jam."

"Uhhh...no," Travis said simply, amusement peeking through despite his initial irritation.

"Wow, a demon quoting Dr. Seuss?" Jolie said, both brows lifted in surprise.

Amelia grinned. "My Trayvon is very cultured."

"So I see," Jolie replied with a grin. "I can't wait to see what other references interrupt the flow of progress."

"Dear God," muttered the director.

Please leave a review! Please? All my demons will be your best friends if you do!


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